


Written On My Skin

by tinymacaroni



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), F/M, Found Family, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, just a little bit, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymacaroni/pseuds/tinymacaroni
Summary: just a stupid cheesy soulmate AU that i will hopefully expand on in the future? mostly jaskier/eskel and jaskier/geralt centric. also i messed with the timelines a wee bit but it's moooooostly accurate?
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 97





	Written On My Skin

1192

Geralt of Rivia is only 32 years old when his first soulmark appears on his right wrist -  _ And quite a bit more _ \- the morning after Belleteyne. It's surprising, to say the least - witchers weren't supposed to have soulmates, or so they had been taught, but he pays it little mind regardless. Witchers weren't exactly desirable life partners, and he firmly doubts that even his soulmate would want him in their life. It's too dangerous and too unpredictable, and in any case having a soulmate to look after would only distract him from his work. Still, he's young for a witcher, with centuries ahead of him if he's lucky, and he can't shake the foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach as he reads the words and watches them fade into his skin. He would have to be careful.

\--

Down in Aedirn, a girl is born with violet eyes and a twisted spine, and the words  _ I brought you apple juice _ scrawled across her left wrist. She has no clue she'll be destined for greatness, nor will she grow up believing such was even possible. It won't take her long to forget the words were there - after all, who would want the girl in the pig sty for a soulmate?

  
  


1222

"Oh for fuck's sake." Geralt groans in frustration when he awakes on the first day of spring, ready to return to the Path, only to see a line of text on his left wrist which fades away even as he reads it. The existing mark in the same spot on his right wrist prickles, making itself known though it could not be seen, and he grits his teeth. Witchers were not supposed to have soulmates at all, much less  _ two _ of them. This was getting complicated, and he hates complications.

He makes his way down the stairs and into the main hall where Lambert and Eskel are already seated, enjoying their last meal at home until their return next winter.

"Well don't you look a peach," Lambert taunts, unperturbed by Geralt's stormy glare. "What, upset that we have to leave? Gonna miss your nice warm bed?"

"I've been doing this longer than you, you absolute arse. I'm no stranger to the Path and its discomforts, nor do I particularly mind them."

"Then why do you look like someone pissed in your porridge?"

"None of your fucking business, that's why." The two wolves look like they're about to come to blows, and Eskel sits ready to separate them if need be, but at that moment Vesemir walks in and they all settle back into their seats, eating calmly as if nothing had happened. Vesemir isn't stupid, nor is his hearing any worse for his age; he knows they'd been arguing, but he doesn't broach the subject. They'd get plenty of space from each other soon enough.

"Vesemir, can I talk to you?" Eskel beckons the old wolf over, not bothering to try and be discreet. The others would hear him regardless.

"What is it?" Eskel tugs at his right sleeve to reveal the faint pearly traces of words -  _ Can I buy you a drink? _ A soulmark, still fresh. Geralt chokes on his drink as Vesemir sucks in a breath. "A soulmark? On a witcher? Melitele's  _ tits _ boy, what kind of trouble are you going to get yourself into?"

"I have one too." Geralt raises his left sleeve, where the words can still barely be made out -  _ I love the way you just sit there and brood. _ He decides not to show them the second, seeing no need to stir up even more of a fuss. Lambert howls with laughter the moment he notices which wrists they each held out.

"You both got those today? And on opposite wrists? You realize what this means, right?" Eskel and Geralt both stare at him blankly, and Lambert barks out another laugh before explaining. "You might have the same soulmate!" Witchers could not pale the same way they could not blush, but Geralt's certain that if he could have, he would be ashen-faced right now, and he's certain Eskel was in the same position. "Oh my gods, what if you have to  _ fight _ over them?" Lambert continues laughing as Geralt sits, frozen in place, but Eskel takes the jab in stride.

"I'd win, of course. Geralt looks like an old man, and he's about as charming as a kikimore." He laughs even as Geralt cuffs him on the back of his head, turning towards Vesemir, who simply shakes his head at his pups. "Well? Any ideas?"

"Only that, of all the wolves I've raised, it would be you two who catch yourselves in such a tangled, messy predicament." The old man sighs as he takes his seat at the head of the table. "I will also say, witchers are discouraged from making close relationships with others from outside the Path for a reason, but with soulmates in the mix… Well, I really don't know." There's an air of finality to his words, and they eat the rest of their meal quickly and quietly, though every so often Lambert would look up at his brothers and barely stifle a laugh.

When they part ways, Geralt feels that heavy dread in his gut once more. He doesn't want to deal with this.

\--

Across the continent in Kerack, Julian Alfred Pankratz, future Viscount of Lettenhove, Oxenfurt professor, and renowned bard is born with two marks, one on each wrist -  _ They don't exist _ and  _ You don't want to do that _ . A rare thing, a child with two soulmates, and the second mark is almost worrying, but his parents refuse to pay it any mind. They don't plan on letting him get into any real trouble, in any case.

  
  


1240

Eighteen years have passed since Geralt and Eskel had received their twin marks, and nearly fifty since Geralt's first mark had appeared. While he hasn't forgotten about them, he did manage to push them to a far-off corner of his mind so he could focus on his work. Every winter he and Eskel had spoken briefly about their marks, but neither had met anyone who'd spoken the words they'd read, and they never discussed it beyond that. They didn't want to.

Now, though, Geralt sits in a tavern in Posada, drinking watered-down ale and attempting to tune out the bard who was singing about [rewatch ep 1 for song]. His shoulders relax a little when the music stops, only to tense back up tenfold when the bard approaches him, all loud movements and bright colors.

"I love the way you just sit there and  _ brood," _ the young man croons, and it takes all of Geralt's training and focus not to shatter the mug in his hand. A muscle in his jaw twitches as the bard takes the seat across from him, and he tries to think of something generic to say, hoping not to alert his apparent soulmate to their connection. He tunes out most of the words being spoken at him, only hearing something about bread and pants, but he hears the request for a review clearly - "Three words or less." That's easy enough, right?

"They don't exist." The words leave him before he'd really even thought of them, and he curses inwardly as he catches the way the bard's eyes widen for just a moment before he returns to their conversation.

"What don't exist?"

"The creatures in your songs."

It shouldn't have been surprising, really, how hard it was to shake the bard. They were soulmates, after all. Didn't make it any less irritating - particularly when Geralt felt his gut lurch in fear each time Jaskier found himself in danger.

  
  


1242

Geralt doesn't make it back to Kaer Morhen until two weeks after the worst of the snows had started, and he shows up to the keep half-frozen and numb with exhaustion. Lambert and Eskel are chatting in the main hall when he arrives, and Eskel has a large bandage taking up nearly half his face. Geralt's eyebrows knit together in concern, and he speaks more softly than he intends.

"What happened?" Eskel doesn't answer, and after a moment Lambert speaks up for him.

"You remember Dierdre, his child surprise?" Geralt nods - he hadn't actually met the girl, but he remembers Eskel talking about her on occasion. From what he can recall, he'd mostly focused on avoiding her, and Geralt couldn't really blame him. The Path was no place for a child. "Yeah, well, she showed up and there was a bit of a scuffle" - Eskel snorts derisively at this - "and she got Eskel here in the face with a sword. Pretty deep, runs all the way-"

"He doesn't need every detail, Lambert." Eskel's voice is full of heated irritation, and Geralt knows him well enough to know that what he needs most right now is time and space to sort it all out himself.

"Alright. Well, I'm going to go take a bath and see if I can get my fingers to move again. Eskel… If you need to talk, you know where to find me." Eskel gives a curt nod, which Geralt returns before making his way to the baths. He hadn't been at the keep last winter, and he'd planned to tell Eskel he'd found Jaskier, but now he's thinking perhaps he should wait. The last thing Eskel needs right now is one more problem on his mind.

\--

Eskel wrapped up his conversation with Lambert quickly after Geralt left, no longer in the mood for his chatter. He stalks up to his room and locks the door, pulling some salve and bandages out from amongst his belongings. Vesemir had dressed the wound well when it had happened, but the bandage is well overdue for changing, and he can tell that this one will take a while to heal even with his mutations.

Carefully, he peels the dressing from his face, standing in front of his small mirror to assess the wound. She had missed his eye, thankfully, but the cut runs all the way from his mouth to just above his ear, and it's deep and broad enough that he was lucky she hadn't cut clean through his cheek. It doesn't hurt much anymore, but already he can see the scarring would be extensive. He sighs, washing the wound with some water from a skin, then smears it with salve, the sharp herbal scent filling his nose, and covers it with fresh bandages.

It's stupid, he knew, because he shouldn't be thinking about such things in the first place. But a small part of him aches at the thought that whoever his soulmate may be, they'd probably never be able to love him. Not like this.

  
  


1249

"Well, who knows." Jaskier lowers himself to cross his arms on the edge of the tub, pouting dramatically. "Maybe someone out there will want you." Geralt's heart aches like it's in a vice, remembering yet again that he couldn't tell Jaskier they were soulmates. It would be too dangerous, the bard already insisted on travelling with him, and that was bad enough. But sometimes Jaskier says things - things like "Maybe someone out there will want you" - and Geralt can feel his soulmark begin to itch. He reaches for his ale to try and drown out the cacophony of feelings in his head, but Jaskier's quick to take it from his hand, patting his shoulder firmly. "Ah, now, you may want to lay off the Cintran ale for a bit."

"I'll not suffer tonight sober," Geralt growls. Unfortunately, as often happens with Jaskier, he's wrong. Wrong and, much to his irritation, utterly sober, which does nothing to help his mood when Jaskier stuffs him into tight-fitting clothes that the bard insists are fashionable, but which constrict his movement in ways that make all his witcher instincts want to scream. He wonders, briefly, if Jaskier realizes how much more influence he has on Geralt than anybody else on the Continent, save maybe his brothers. How often he lets Jaskier do things to or near him that would get others thrown across a room and never spoken to again.

The night goes off with many a hitch, from Calanthe's late entrance to the introduction of Duny, who, it seems, is Pavetta's destined husband. The ensuing battle exhausts Geralt more than it has any right to, and he blames the clothing in which he could barely fight and the mental fatigue from dealing with nobility all evening. At least he'd been able to make a few good jokes, several at Jaskier's expense.

He's so tired, in fact, that when Duny offers him a reward for all he'd done that night, he claims the Law of Surprise without thinking. Before he can even finish speaking, Pavetta throws up, and Geralt can feel a new soulmark prickling on his left wrist, just below the second one.

"Ah,  _ fuck _ ."

He avoids Jaskier's eye, trying to get out of the stupid party and the awful clothes as quickly as he can, nearly snarling when he's accostes by Mousesack. The last thing he needs right now is a lecture on destiny.

When Mousesack finally lets him go, he storms off to find Roach. The first thing he does is dig through his saddlebags for a shirt and a pair of his own trousers, changing right there in the stables, unable to stand the choking fabric for one more second than necessary. He folds the clothes messily, leaving them on top of a crate and hoping Jaskier finds them later - he doesn't want to be responsible for Jaskier losing some of his beloved finery, but he can't stay here another moment. Not with _three_ _fucking soulmarks_ prickling on his skin as if a thousand tiny needles were trying to vex him to death.

  
  


1250

Yennefer of Vengerburg has been alive for over half a century when she receives her second soulmark - on her birthday, no less. The first she was born with, and sometimes she remembers it and laughs to herself.  _ I brought you apple juice _ . She can't wait to see how that line makes its way into her life. This new mark, though, simply reads  _ Please - help me _ as it fades into her skin. That's a little more worrisome, if for no other reason than she hears those words more frequently than most. She's not certain how she'll recognize this soulmate, as she still has yet to meet her first, but she figures that's a bridge she can cross when she comes to it.

At least she'll be important to someone, someday.

  
  


1256

"Fuck, Geralt-" Jaskier chokes out as the elven healer mentions the possibility of his own death.

"Yeah, uh - we won't let that happen." Geralt squeezes his shoulder, trying to be reassuring, but he's too distracted to be much comfort. He's already put the pieces together, he knows he's the one who got the wishes, and knows this is all his fault. Jaskier - his fucking  _ soulmate _ \- might die because of a stupid, impulsive wish he made. And he's still never even told Jaskier about their connection. "Is there a mage in this town?" Chiridean tells him about the mage in the mayor's house and he nods, hauling Jaskier to his feet and taking him to the mayor's home.

"Money opens many doors," the guard says, and Geralt could scream he's so angry. He knocks the guard out with his coin purse, and it helps, just a little. He carries Jaskier into the ostentatious home, where they're met with the nude figure of a man he assumes to be the mayor. After a brief and not-very-informative conversation, he picks up a jug of apple juice and takes Jaskier down the hall, following the scent of magic and about two dozen people. The massive orgy barely fazes him as he strides into the room, depositing Jaskier on a chaise and approaching the mage.

"I brought you apple juice." He holds to jug up lamely, and her eyes widen for just a moment before her cool demeanor slips back into place.

"And quite a bit more." She gives him a considering look, tilting her head. "You're immune."

"You must be the mage."

\--

Later, after the witch saves his life and he escapes her frenzied clutches, Jaskier watches Geralt and Yennefer having sex, and his heart sinks. He didn't see them interact much, but something about the charged way they spoke - did Geralt have a soulmate? Had he lied when he told Jaskier witchers didn't have soulmates? 

He hopes he never finds out.

  
  


1262

"If life could give me  _ one _ blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!" Geralt roars, and Jaskier hardly even blinks, though he feels like his entire world is crumbling. He and Geralt have had fights, sure, but not like this. Not with this much pure, naked rage. Even if he knows it's not actually his fault, having the force of all that anger turned on him still hurts. A lot.

"Right, then." He nods decisively as Geralt turns away from him. "I'll get the rest of the story from the others." He's lying. He has no intention of revisiting this story. "See you around, Geralt." He hopes this one isn't a lie as he turns to find his way back down the mountain.

It takes him two days to make it back, and when he reaches the base of the mountain he stops to get his things from Roach's saddlebags. "Goodbye, girl," he murmurs as he strokes the horse's mane. "Take care of him for me." Tears threaten to spill down his cheeks as he spares one last glance toward the peak of the mountain before leaving it - leaving  _ Geralt _ \- behind.

Three months later he's in a tavern, playing every song he knows that isn't about Geralt for whatever meager coin it earns him (Fishmonger's Daughter had never been quite as lucrative as Toss A Coin, after all), when he spots familiar amber eyes in an unfamiliar face. Another witcher. His breath catches in his throat, but he plays it off as smoothly as he can, finishing the song and bidding a goodnight to the few audience members still listening.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks this new witcher as he slips in beside him at the bar.

"You don't want to do that." This witcher has a softer, lighter voice than Geralt, though he sounds no less dangerous, and he has a thick rope of scar tissue cutting across half his face. Jaskier's certain there's a story there.

"Don't presume to know what I do and don't want," the bard replies, half a warning and half flirtatious, before ordering two mugs of ale. "What's your name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, idle curiosity. Besides, who wouldn't want the name of such a gorgeous man?" His reluctant drinking buddy's face changes at that, becoming cold and drawn.

"There's no need to be cruel," he whispers, and while the words come out like a threat, there's an underlying sadness to them that Jaskier can't ignore. His brows knit together in confusion, but he doesn't push the issue, changing tactics instead.

"Well, call it  _ professional _ curiosity then. I'm sure you've heard the tales of the White Wolf?" This earns him a small snort of laughter. "Yes, you and everyone else on the Continent. I'm quite proud of that, for you see I am the great bard who made him famous." It's painful to talk about Geralt, he won't lie, but he wants to keep this witcher's interest, and he isn't sure how else he'd be able to.

He's certain he's fucked up when the witcher doesn't respond for a moment, and is just about to slink off and give up when the witcher asks quietly, "So why aren't you with him?"

\--

Eskel's sitting at the bar and he knows, he  _ knows _ this is his soulmate. And his heart sinks when he finds out that this is the bard who's been travelling with Geralt for two decades, because if he's Eskel's soulmate then he's almost certainly Geralt's as well, and what does Eskel have on over twenty years of companionship? He doesn't even have good stories, not like the ones he's heard sung about Geralt all across the Continent. All he has are scars and bitter pain.

So when the bard mentions being the famed White Wolf's companion, Eskel is silent, not sure how to respond. But then the bard starts to get up, to leave, and Eskel can't lose this chance, so he asks the first thing that comes to mind. "So why aren't you with him?" The bard's heart rate increases, and Eskel can smell a faint tinge of anxiety in the air as the silence stretches on, and he's sure he's fucked it all up when-

"It's a long story."

"I have the time." He keeps his voice as soft as he can, trying not to scare the bard away. "I've got a room, upstairs, if you'd like to talk?" The upshot to this being Geralt's bard is at least Eskel's fairly certain he won't be afraid of being in close quarters with a witcher.

"Are you propositioning me?" The question is teasing, flirtatious even, but the scent of anxiety has only thickened in the air, and in a very un-witchery fashion, Eskel panics.

"No! No, of course not, I mean not that you aren't attractive, I would-" He stops when he realizes the bard is laughing, and for the first time since he arrived Eskel sees him truly smile.

"I'm only joking, it's fine. I… wouldn't mind taking you up on talking, though, if you haven't changed your mind."

"Of course. Come with me." Eskel put a few coins on the bar for their drinks, ignoring the bard's protests that he'd offered to buy the drinks as he led him upstairs.

"You never did give me your name, by the way," the bard said when he was done grumbling about propriety and coin.

"Eskel. And, I confess, while I know your songs, I don't know your name either." He caught the bard's frown out of the corner of his eye as he unlocked the door.

"Geralt never… talked about me? During his winters at the keep?"

Eskel ignored the odd feeling at hearing a human casually referring to Kaer Morhen as "the keep," something typically only the wolves themselves called it. Twenty-odd years with a witcher granted him that right, he figured. "Geralt doesn't talk about much, truth be told. I assume he's not told you much about us, either, if you didn't recognize me." He began removing his armor, gesturing for the bard to sit on the bed, but stiffened when he felt nimble fingers at his back.

"Oh, fuck, sorry. I should have asked. Geralt just always has trouble with this bit, and…"

"It's fine," Eskel said, a little quicker than he meant to. It was always a bitch and a half to unbuckle that particular section of armor, but it was strange to be touched by someone who wasn't trying to hurt him, much less someone who hadn't been paid to do so. He busied himself with the other parts of his armor as the bard worked on the buckles along his back.

"Jaskier, by the way. That's my name. And no, Geralt never did tell me much about the other witchers."

"There aren't many of us left, particularly not of the wolf school." Eskel removed the rest of his armor easily with the back section undone, and gestures once again for Jaskier to sit on the bed as he takes a seat in the rickety wooden chair beside the wall. "Half the keep is in ruins by now from disuse."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. I'm glad they can't make more of us. No child should have to face those trials. Most of us didn't even survive the process." Bitterness crept into his voice as he remembered all the pain and sickness, all the deaths around him, as he'd undergone the trials and mutations that turned him into what he was now.

"Geralt never told me much about the trials, but from what little I do know… that seems like a rather reasonable position, frankly. A shame it comes at the cost of your home though, still." Eskel shrugged.

"A witcher needs no home." He could tell by Jaskier's expression that the bard disagreed, but he did not argue the point, and Eskel got the feeling it was a conversation he and Geralt had had more than once before. "But, you didn't come up here to listen to me politicize about the life of a witcher. What happened between you and Geralt?" Jaskier stiffened, and he almost regretted bringing it up again.

He listened as Jaskier told him all of what happened on the mountain, from meeting Borch to the fight with Geralt and his trip down the mountain, and Eskel very nearly broke the arm of his chair he was gripping it so hard. He was  _ furious _ on Jaskier's behalf.

"I don't even know what to say, Jaskier, I'm… So fucking sorry, for one."

Jaskier shrugged, looking torn between grief and bitterness. "You wanna know the worst part? I think he might have been my soulmate. Was never certain, didn't want to risk bringing it up and he told me once that witchers didn't have soulmates, but…" He tugged at the sleeve covering the mark he'd always assumed to be Geralt's, chewing his lip. He looked up, concerned, when he felt Eskel's shocked gaze on him. "What? Did he say anything to you?"

Eskel swallowed thickly, weighing his options in his head. He didn't want to throw his brother under the proverbial caravan, but the thought of telling Jaskier anything but the truth made his chest ache - though he doubted the bard would want him for a soulmate. "Witchers… can have soulmates," he started hesitantly. "It's just rare. I know Geralt does have one, though he's never told me what the mark says." He scratches his arm where Jaskier's words linger on his skin, taking a steadying breath before deciding to tell it all. "I… have one too." He lifts his sleeve, revealing the words Jaskier asked him down in the bar - not uncommon words in general, but not ones he tended to hear often, and he hopes he's right about Jaskier's arm bearing his words in turn. "I got it the same day Geralt got his."

"Oh." Jaskier tugs his own sleeve up, revealing Eskel's response in faint lines on his skin, smiling shakily. "Oh, Eskel." He pushes himself off the bed, crowding into Eskel's space. "Can I kiss you?"

\--

Halfway across the continent, the Lion Cub of Cintra finds a mage with violet eyes and begs her: "Please - help me."

  
  


1263

A year and change after Jaskier lost one soulmate and found another, he's accompanying Eskel to the one place Geralt always refused to let him follow - though now he knows it's because Geralt was afraid one of his fellow wolves would spill his secret. He's still mad at Geralt, of course, but he's hoping the distance they've had will make it easier to be there with him. 

He and Eskel are sitting in the main hall, chatting with Lambert and Vesemir, when Geralt walks in, Yennefer at his side, a child hiding behind his broad back, bright green eyes peering out from under the hood of a blue cloak. Eskel and Lambert stand and take turns hugging their brother, taking his and Yennefer's things. They don't question the child - he'll explain in due time. Jaskier hangs back, until Geralt spots him over Eskel's shoulder, confusion etched into the lines of his face.

"Jaskier?"

"Hullo, Geralt, Yennefer. Cirilla, my dear, is that you?" The girl perks up at hearing her name, and recognition flashes in her eyes.

"Jaskier!" 

The bard stands, arms wide to embrace her as she darts out from behind Geralt.

"You know each other?"

"You may have been determined to avoid Cintra and your child surprise, but I still played at banquets there every so often." Jaskier hoists the girl onto his hip, looking back up at Geralt. "How've you been?"

Geralt grunts, and Yennefer cocks her head at him with an odd look. They join Eskel and Lambert in returning the table, Geralt accepting a welcoming pat on the back from Vesemir. Jaskier's face falls, and Eskel shoots him a worried glance.

"Right." Jaskier presses a kiss to the girl's temple before setting her back on the floor, letting her scurry back over to Geralt. "Well, I guess I'll just-"

"No, Jas. Stay." Eskel pats the seat beside him where he'd been sitting before, and Jaskier balks.

"No, Eskel, really, I don't want… You all should have a nice night, together. We can- we can talk about things later. It's fine, really." Eskel pouts, and Jaskier comes up behind him, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "I'll see you upstairs, yeah?"

"Of course. I'll be up soon." Eskel catches Jaskier's hand and kisses his knuckles before letting him go, smiling faintly after the bard. Geralt clears his throat, snapping Eskel's attention back to the table. Vesemir is focused on Ciri, distracting her with a plate of food, Lambert looks like he's trying his hardest to stifle a laugh, and Geralt is simply looking at Eskel, brows raised in bemusement.

"You and I are going to talk tomorrow, Wolf." Eskel's voice is cold, colder than any he's used with Geralt before, and even Lambert seems to have lost the humor of the situation. Geralt snaps his mouth shut over any remark he was going to make, and Vesemir defuses the situation, speaking up as Ciri switches deftly from Geralt's lap to his.

"So, Geralt. Were you going to introduce us to your new friends here?"

"Of course. Sorry. Everyone, this is Yennefer of Vengerberg, and this is Princess Cirilla, my child surprise."

"The Lion Cub of Cintra? Your child surprise is the fucking  _ Lion Cub of Cintra _ ?"

"Lambert! Language!"

"She knows what swears are, Esk."

"I bet she does, travelling with your grumpy ass."

"Yeah, yeah." Geralt turns his attention toward Ciri. "Cub, these are the other witchers I was telling you about. The loudmouth is Lambert, the one you're sitting on is Vesemir, and Eskel's…" He sighs as he realizes Eskel's already taken his plate to the kitchen and, presumably, won't be coming back. "Eskel's the one who went upstairs with Jaskier."

"Are they together?" Ciri tilts her head curiously, and Geralt looks to Vesemir for an answer - but of course, it's Lambert who decides to speak up.

"They most certainly are, and frankly it's getting tiresome having to watch those lovesick idiots swoon over each other." Geralt pretends his heart isn't breaking in his chest. Witchers aren't supposed to have hearts that can break, anyway. Instead, he, Yenn, and Ciri recount their adventures to Lambert and Vesemir, who tell tales of their own years since last winter in turn.

Upstairs, Jaskier curls up tight against Eskel, shaking with silent sobs, and Eskel's chest aches with heartbreak and rage.

\--

The next morning, Jaskier and Eskel are both absent from breakfast, and Geralt grimaces as he notices their empty seats at the table. After they eat, he leaves Ciri in Yenn and Vesemir's care, telling her to help clean up after their meal and telling Vesemir to make her earn her keep. He goes upstairs to Eskel's room, knowing the way by heart - gods know he's spent nearly as many nights there as in his own room. Eskel opens the door, scowling, before he even raises his hand to knock. Jaskier's on the bed behind him, facing away from the door, but Geralt can tell he's not asleep. Twenty-odd years of travelling with someone are a good way to learn things like that.

"What do you want?"

"You said last night that we needed to talk. I think you're probably right."

Eskel sighs, glancing back over his shoulder to where Jaskier curls up tighter, clutching the thick blanket around his shoulders. "Yeah. We do." Eskel steps out into the hallway, walking down to the end of it, giving Geralt little choice but to follow.

"So… I assume this has something to do with Jaskier?" Geralt asks as he and Eskel settle onto the two benches beside the window, facing each other.

"You  _ never _ fucking  _ told _ him?" Eskel starts, hissing the words through his teeth. "Twenty godsdamned years and  _ you never told him _ ?"

"It's not that simple. I didn't want him to be in danger."

"So, what, you thought if you never told him you were soulmates he'd just give up on following you one day?"

"Something like that."

"Well that worked out real great for you, huh? And then you bring this fucking mage, who even is-" Eskel falls silent as Geralt holds out his right wrist, tilting it so the words are just visible in the low light. "Two? You have  _ two _ soulmates?"

"Three, including Ciri."

"And you just never bothered to say anything? Fucking hells, Geralt, what is your  _ problem _ ?" Eskel stands as he speaks, thrumming with restless irritation, pacing the small section of hallway. Geralt grimaces.

"It's not like that, Eskel. I didn't- I wasn't trying to hide it from you, I just didn't want to deal with it. Any of it."

"You know as well as I do that sort of thing never works out well. Particularly not for our kind."

"I know. I'm sorry I never told you." Silence hangs heavy in the air between them for a moment. "How… how did you two-?"

"I ran into him in a bar a few months after your dragon hunt." Geralt winces, remembering the cruel words he'd used to push Jaskier away. "Yeah. He thinks you hate him, you know. He almost didn't come with me, was afraid of seeing you again. Afraid of what you might say." Geralt's head snaps up, looking at Eskel like he's been slapped. Jaskier had been a lot of things - irritating, horny, charming - but he'd never been  _ afraid _ of Geralt.

"I have to talk to him. Eskel, I fucked up, please, let me talk to him." Geralt sounds broken, crushed in a way Eskel hasn't heard in decades, and he relents.

"Yeah, fine. Just… Be careful, alright?"

\--

Jaskier opens the door when Geralt knocks, eyes rimmed red, still holding Eskel's thick wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "What do you want?"

"To apologize. Can I come in?" 

Jaskier rolls his eyes, but steps back into the room, sitting on the bed and allowing Geralt to sit in a chair by the fire. He looks at Geralt sullenly, expectantly, and the witcher sighs.

"Jaskier, I know nothing I can say can take back what I said on the mountain. I was angry, and I took it out on you, and you didn't deserve that. I'm… Jaskier, I'm  _ so _ fucking sorry." The bard's face softens a little, and Geralt continues. "I'm sure Eskel already told you, and I wish I'd told you sooner, but-" He holds out his left arm, Jaskier's words shining dimly in the flickering firelight, and Jaskier takes a sharp breath.

"I thought… I mean, obviously when I first heard you say it, but you were so insistent that witchers never had soulmates, I…" Jaskier holds out a shaking hand, right arm extended, fingertips tracing over the words on Geralt's skin. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was scared. Scared you would be in danger, scared you wouldn't want me." Jaskier gives him a skeptical look, and he sighs again. "I know. It was stupid. But isn't that what love does, makes people stupid?"

"Love?"

"I've loved you for years, Jaskier. I just never wanted to admit it, even to myself. I'm sorry."

"Oh, love." Jaskier pulls him over into a kiss, smiling even as tears trail down his cheeks.

Standing outside his own room, Eskel tells himself he's happy for them. When they go downstairs to eat together, he begins to pack his bags.

\--

Eskel's in the stables, loading his bags onto Scorpion's saddle, when he hears footsteps crunching in the snow behind him.

"What's all this?" Jaskier's voice is soft, no accusation in his tone, just curiosity tinged with concern.

"I'm leaving. Gonna head south a little early, see what contracts are out there."

"The passes are completely snowed over, you'll get yourself killed."

Eskel shrugs. "I've been through worse."

Jaskier clicks his tongue, doubtful.

"Look, Jaskier," Eskel starts, turning to meet that sky blue gaze. "What we had was great, but you and Geralt have two decades of history. I can't compete with that, and you know it." Jaskier frowns, and Eskel's stomach does a funny little flip.

"Who said anything about competing?"

"But you and Geralt-"

"Are soulmates, yes. But you're my soulmate, too. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?"

"You know why."

"Is it the scars? Eskel, I've told you before, they don't bother me."

"It's more than that. Geralt's… Geralt's better than me. Better looking, a better hunter. You deserve someone like him. I don't deserve someone like you."

"Eskel, my darling, I say this with all the love in my heart - that is  _ horseshit _ . You are full of  _ shit _ . People don't  _ deserve _ one another, that's not how this works. I don't care what you think you deserve, I love you, and I don't want you to leave. Please, don't leave." Jaskier's eyes shine with unshed tears, but his lips are set in a stiff line, resolute.

"But  _ why _ ? Why me, when you can have  _ him _ ?"

"Why do I have to choose? I love you both, and you're both written into my very  _ skin _ . Please, just come back inside. Stay. Please." Jaskier reaches out, tugging Eskel's hand.

"What about Geralt? Won't he be…"

"Jealous? Nah. We talked about it - besides, he's got Yenn. It's not like either of us is the first person on the Continent to have more than one soulmate."

"True." Eskel sighs, looking forlornly at his things. "Now I have to unpack again, though."

"That's your own fault for thinking you can just up and leave without talking to anyone." Jaskier leans in, pressing a light kiss to Eskel's cheek, and the witcher gives him a crooked grin. "I'll help you carry it all back in, though." Jaskier hoists a bag off Scorpion's saddle, taking Eskel's hand and pulling him along back to the main building, where they join everyone else for a dinner that Vesemir and Ciri cooked. Jaskier sits with Eskel on his left and Geralt on his right, and takes turns feeding them both bites of food from his own plate. Yennefer and Lambert both roll their eyes, and Ciri giggles when Geralt and Eskel lean in at the same time to kiss Jaskier on each cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i had written more of yenn and ciri into this but the whole thing kinda got away from me tbh, and i hope i write more of this with the both of them in the future


End file.
